


The best laid schemes

by Balthuza



Category: Shards of the Sun
Genre: Gen, I suppose, and the job absolutely had to be done, but she gets the job done, racist assholes, well Gin is terrifying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balthuza/pseuds/Balthuza
Summary: When she hears raised voices the moment she steps over the threshold, she just sighs. Then she realises that Steffit sounds actually angry, and leaves the documents in the walk-in closet by the door, hurrying to the workshop.





	

Sometimes Gin wonders how the quick races deal with having so much to do and so little time. Especially when it comes to children. It’s the third evening this week when she goes back home with an armful of documents - Flick keeps bringing her library cards of books overdue sometimes a ridiculous amount of time, all of them under the same name. Gin took care to check the boy’s schedule, and she’s sure he won’t drop in today, so she left her daughter, who still failed to see the simplest way of finding the culprit, in the library alone. Flick continues to map the “book thief’s” progress and leave passive-aggressive notes in those she deems worthy his attention next.

When she hears raised voices the moment she steps over the threshold, she just sighs. Then she realises that Steffit sounds actually angry, and leaves the documents in the walk-in closet by the door, hurrying to the workshop.

“Did I misheard, then? Is that it?” Gin rounds the corner and stops, taking in the scene. There is no work being done. Steffit stands in the middle of the workshop, in front of him, with his arms crossed defensively stands an elf. Syl, if Gin recalls correctly (she always does), unmarried, lives three streets away, good at carving, terrible at gem-cutting. The rest of the workers observe the quarrel openly, some notice Gin in the entrance and throw her unsure looks her way. 

“Am I speaking too fast for your common?” There’s a vein showing on his neck, and Gin raises both her eyebrows when she notices, but does not interfere. Not yet anyway. The elf starts to get angry, too. Mentally, Gin catalogues the spells she has prepared and ready at hand, but keeps her distance. “I’m sorry, cat got your tongue? Or maybe it was… hm, let’s think. A mutt? No, wait” Steffit laughs with an awfully fake laughter that makes Gin really worried at this point. “Those should be drowned, shouldn’t they? Aren’t those your words?”

Gin really wishes she had any idea what she missed, so she does what she’s best at.  
A grand entrance. 

As the lightning suddenly crackles over her skin, harmless, just enough to bring the attention of everyone in the room, she smiles. Steffit doesn’t and this worries her more than she could say.

“Well, what seems to be the problem, dear?” she asks him, stepping towards the middle of the room and passing the employees who instinctively move out of her way. Steffit doesn’t take his eyes of Syl.  
“The problem is” he begins, but Syl goes red in the face and interrupts him.

“The problem is you put your nose into somebody’s business.” He nearly spits the words out. “It is no fucking difference to you, so what’s the big deal?” He straightens to his full height, trying to look intimidating, but the white knuckles of his hands tell a different story. Steffit is too angry to notice his try at intimidation. Gin notices and raises an eyebrow. 

“The big deal is I will not employ the lowest sort. Gather your things. If I see you here again, I’ll grab my hammer.” The elf freezes and looks at him with round eyes. Next to Gin, Steffit nearly vibrates in anger. “And you will pay her. Every fucking last bit of coin you own, or I’ll have you driven out of this city, Garl help me. They deserves that at least.”

Something clicks in Gin’s head. The girl, Vija, all blush and chocolate eyes, shy, but always willing to bring the food to the workshop. Gin remembers her mother. She remembers the way Vija went even redder than usual when she tried to tease out the identity of a father, after she asked for some free time. 

Gin calls on her sweetest smile, and pushes the spells into the back of her mind, at least until she can be sure.

“Is there a problem?” She asks again, all honey, and the moment Steffit realises she caught up, he relaxes a little bit. “Is Vija alright? She’s due soon, isn’t she?” He is not prepared to face the polite interest of the Libabonk matriarch. She makes sure it is the case with most people. Before he answers, there is a commotion in the hall, there is a young girl bringing a message, and it’s only thanks to Gin’s hand on Steffit’s that Syl walkes out of the workshop at all. 

When her husband asks, there can only be one answer - she could never say no, when he asked like this, nothing but the row honesty, his heart offered on a platter. In her head there’s a million different ways this could go, and when Steffit carries the child in, there’s the irritating certainty of different ways things will never go, and her heart aches a little when Flick walkes in and stops in the middle of a word. Unlike them, Gin always plans ahead. And she can count well, right now she hates it how well. When Flick, her eyes shining again like a child’s, picks the name, Gin can see it carved in stone.

She leaves the party in the early hours of the morning, when she’s sure nobody will notice. It is far from traditional, she can tell how the news echo in the city, and she knows well it will be much harder from now on - and the worst part is that she won’t be the one to carry this burden. Moving through the streets, still in the dying light of the midnight sun, she makes plans and thinks about consequences.

The door is not closed when she enters. There are very few personal things. The elf is drunk. He swears and cries when he sees her, for all the wrong reasons. There’s no resistance when she casts the spell, little to no issue as she puts the parchment in the visible place, making sure his landlord finds it soon. 

There’s some struggle, as she has him walk through the silent city, feeling the eyes of the forgotten and unwanted on her back.

There’s some fight when they reach the river, and she lets the spell fall, allowing him to tumble backwards. When he turns around, she’s smiling. He can hear his voice go, and in panic, takes a step back. A mage hand stops him from falling into the river.

“Now, there’s no need to do anything hasty, is there?”

By the time she throws the last bag into the river she realises that the guests are going to be back in few hours. She sighs, wonders for a second about washing her hands in the river, but in the end burnes the blood off with magic, checks for dirty spots on her clothes, and turns around.  
The shadows, teeming with those who were unfortunate enough to be born in the wrong place, in the wrong time, part before her without a sound.


End file.
